Twenty Seven Candles
by varietyofwords
Summary: Chuck and Blair (and Henry). Oneshot. Post-finale. Henry and Chuck prepare for Blair's birthday. "Your father knows he, Grandmère Eleanor, and Grandpa Harold are the only ones allowed to buy me jewelry. He's just being silly." "And Mommy knows Bass men don't need her to approve their attire. She's just here to spy on us and find out our secrets, Henry."


**Author's Note: **This is for sopiya, who requested to see Henry and Chuck preparing for Blair's birthday.

* * *

Fingers trailing along the glass display cases cause professional faces to falter and wince in displeasure for the briefest of moments because dirtied glass obscures the merchandise. Yet the little boy leaning against the display cases – hot breath and small fingers leaving smudges on the glass – has more money to spend in one afternoon than they will have in five years so they employ wide smiles and cheerful tones as they cater to his every whim.

The canary yellow diamonds cut into perfect hearts are met with the cool dismissal of anything yellow. The intricate flowers dripping in diamonds are pondered over with the tap of fingers against his little chin in contemplation before he moves onto the next offering with the shake of his head. The cluster of rubies is passed over with the roll of his eyes because the setting is gaudy and distasteful and no way would Henry Bass ever be seen purchasing such a monstrosity.

The last offering is brought from the safe at the back of the store; the salesman slightly hesitant as he opens the black velvet case to display the gems inside. Standing on tiptoes with fingers clutching the edges of the display case, the little boy's deep brown eyes widen in delight at the sight before him. Henry bounces ever so slightly as a gasp escapes across his lips, and he falls to flat feet in a whirl of excitement as he calls out for his father to look at what he's found.

"I want this one, Daddy!"

Eyes move from a display case across the store to meet the little boy's gaze, and Chuck's lips pull into a smile as he moves across the store to stand beside his son. The little boy pops back up onto his tiptoes to point towards the jeweler's offering; his father's hand gently pressing against his back to support him. And Chuck's eyes narrow in concentration as he looks over every gem and detail for a flaw that could detract from the beauty of Henry's selection.

"This one?"

"This one," Henry affirms with the fervent nodding of his head that sends his brown hair moving in the breeze of his excitement. And his father merely hums his approval as he pulls out his wallet and slides his credit card across the glass. The card is swiped in the blink of an eye; the transaction completed before the salesman finishes carefully packaging up the gift.

"I hold it," Henry demands when the package is held out to his father. He stands on his tiptoes to try and snag the bag, but his father cuts him off with a shake of his head and the reminder that the gift is expensive and needs to be held in his protection rather than by Henry. It is the exact opposite of the reply the little boy wanted to hear because his features narrow into that perfect blend of derision and consternation, that perfect blend of his parentage that expresses his displeasure.

"Ne-goat-sea-ation," Henry replies as he crosses his arms over his chest and refuses to budge. His father corrects his pronunciation as he crosses his arms across his chest in reply and gestures for the prince of the Upper East Side, the future CEO of Bass Industries—Waldorf Designs to state his terms.

They go back and forth; a familiar game where Chuck holds the upper hand but Henry learns quickly and tests out his inherited wit and cunningness. Eventually they reach a compromise and leave the store with Henry clutching the bag in his hands and Chuck clutching Henry in his arms.

The blast of cold autumn air to his face as they exit the store causes Henry to press himself closer to his father, to press his face into the scarf wrapped around Chuck's neck as he seeks out the warmth radiating off his father. Chuck walks briskly down the sidewalk towards the location of their next appointment as he tries to shield Henry from the cold. He would have called Arthur and ensconced his son in the warmth of the limo had their next appointment not been a mere four blocks away.

The security man standing just inside the entrance of the second store is kind enough to open the door for them, and the warmth of the air and the coziness of the wood paneling on the walls chases away the cold nipping at exposed noses. The older man with the measuring tape draped around his neck like a scarf greets the two Bass men by name and gestures for his best customers to follow him upstairs for their final fitting.

"Why don't I hold onto the bag while you change, Henry?" Chuck asks his son as he carries him up the stairs. Henry hesitates because they had a deal and only relents when he catches sight of his mother sitting by the window tapping away furiously on her phone.

He gets a little panicky and flustered as he hisses about the surprise being ruined, but Chuck is already one step ahead of him as he slips the velvet box containing their surprise into the inside pocket of his coat away from prying eyes. And, when Henry is satisfied with the protection of their secret, he takes off running towards his mother with the tails of his own scarf flapping behind him in the rush of his excitement.

"Mommy!"

The phone in her hand is set aside; her attention solely fixated on her son. They exchange kisses and hugs in greeting as she scoops him up into her arms, as she asks him what he's been up to whilst she wipes the smudge of lipstick from his cheek. The secret almost tumbles out of his mouth, but the sight of his father advancing towards them causes him to bite his lip and refuse to elaborate any further. And his mother's eyes become suspicious, darting from her son to her husband as Chuck places a chaste kiss against her cheek in salutation.

"Blair, I thought you were going out to brunch and shopping with Serena today?"

"You know I like to have final say in formal wear," she reminds her husband as her eyes rake over his body for any sign of what he and Henry might have been up to this morning. "And, besides, I was just on my way to the jewelers to put some items on hold for Eleanor and –"

"Nate?"

A huff of annoyance escapes past her lips over the way he teases her because they both know she hasn't put anything on hold at the jewelers with the blonde in mind since she was sixteen. And little eyebrows furrow in confusion because Henry is obviously missing something in his parents' exchange.

"Why would Uncle Natie buy Mommy jewelry?"

"He wouldn't," Blair answers with a darted glare towards her husband. "Your father knows he, Grand_mère_ Eleanor, and Grandpa Harold are the only ones allowed to buy me jewelry. He's just being silly."

"But I—" Henry starts as his face becomes crestfallen, but his father swoops in with gentle assurance as he pulls Henry from Blair's arms into his own embrace.

"And Mommy knows Bass men don't need her to approve their attire. She's just here to spy on us and find out our secrets, Henry."

"Oh," Henry replies with exaggerated understanding before turning his gaze from his father to his mother. "You're not very sneaky, Mommy."

Blair's jaw drops in a protesting, unladylike gasp that causes Henry to laugh and her husband to smile. And she starts to remind them both that she's queen of scheming, but the two men in her life look at her with identical expressions as they shake their heads no in reply.

The tailor's reappearance in the doorway with two black garment bags in his hands ends her scheme, and she gathers up handbag with inflated hurt as she prepares to leave. Chuck's free hand reaches out to snag her elbow, though, and he drags her back to press a kiss against her lips. She remains icy in her anger, melts against the heat and caress of his lips, and freezes again when he chuckles over his victory against her lips.

"Bye, Mommy!" Henry calls after Blair without a second glance as she stomps towards the door and he wiggles out of his father's arms and makes his way over to wear the tailor is unzipping the garment bags. The tailor pulls out the miniature, custom-made suit for his young client's approval making sure to point out the bowtie dropped across the shoulder of the suit after he failed to do so last time. Bowties, after all, are the most important accessory to the littlest Bass.

And the little boy's excitement gets the best of him because he starts peeling off his coat and scarf, starts fumbling with his belt and the hem of his sweater. Chuck has to tell him to wait until they're in the changing room, and he has to swallow his laughter as the little boy picks up his discarded clothes and heads off in that direction because Henry loves shopping as much – if not more – than his mother and father do.

The little boy stands in front of the large mirror and fidgets ever so slightly as the tailor checks the hem of his pants and the knot of his bowtie. Henry runs his hands down the front of his suit jacket as the tailor asks him about the fit, about how excited he is for his new suit.

And the little boy hesitates in his reply until he catches sight of his father exiting their dressing room in a suit that subtly matches his. The color is different – Henry's is gray while his father's is blue – but the cut and style is the same, and the coloring of Henry's bowtie is echoed in the cravat around his father's neck.

"You look very sharp, Henry," Chuck tells his son as he takes a stance beside him in the mirror and the tailor moves on to check his other client's hems. The little boy beams under Chuck's praise; a twinge of blush across his cheeks as he trades compliments with his father.

"My bowtie matches Mommy's dress," Henry replies bashfully as his chest puffs up in pride. Last week, he spent the afternoon shopping with his mother, holding her hand as they darted in and out of stores in search of the perfect dress for the party. He had been sworn to secrecy over the dress and his reward for his silence was a perfectly matching bowtie.

Chuck smiles at him in the mirror, speaks lowly to the tailor hovering about that his driver will return to pick up the suits later this afternoon. The tailor nods and promises to have the two suits ready by then as Chuck reaches out to hold Henry's hand and walk him back to the dressing room to change.

The next three hours of their day are spent checking on the preparations at the Empire. While Chuck meets with members of his staff, Henry has full run of the hotel – riding the elevator to the empty penthouse only to push the button and stop on every floor and running up and down the staircase in the lobby of the hotel. The doormen and receptionists fawn over him with indulgent smiles as they remind him to be careful yet join in on his antics when their boss' attention is diverted.

Arthur arrival with the custom-made suit distracts the little boy from the pleasures of having full run of a hotel, and the concern that he might wrinkle his new suit calms him long enough for his father to finish his conversations. When it is time to leave, the little boy waves goodbye to the staff and drags his father out of the waiting limo.

"Come on, Daddy! We have to pick up Mommy!"

Henry bounces in his seat; his carseat groaning under the abuse his excitement inflicts upon it. And he strains against the seatbelt when the limo stops in front of his house; calls out for his father to hurry up when he pushes open the front door of the house. Monkey bounds down the stairs at the sound of his best friend's voice, and the little boy forgets about his new suit for just a moment as he wraps his arms around Monkey's neck and allows the dog to lick his face.

Eventually, he lets go of the dog and makes his way up the stairs skirting past Dorota with a shouted hello as he climbs from the bottom floor of the penthouse to the top with Monkey nipping at his heels. The door to his parents' bedroom is shut, and he takes a moment to adjust his bowtie and smooth his coat before knocking on the door.

He cannot hear his mother's muffed reply, but past experience has taught Henry that it is usually okay to enter his parents' bedroom as long as he knows one parent is occupied elsewhere. He pushes open the door, and his eyes dart across the room from the made-up bed to the empty seat in front of Blair's vanity.

"Mommy?"

"I'll be out in a minute, Henry," Blair calls out from her closet.

The little boy nods in reply, although she cannot see him, and climbs up onto his parents' large bed. He pats his hand against the mattress in a gesture for Monkey to join him, but the dog backs away because he knows the rules and he knows that Blair determines who gets to sleep in her bed. The opening of the closet door distracts Henry's attention, and he looks up to see his mother slipping on her earrings as she moves across the room towards him.

"You look very handsome, Henry."

"I look like Daddy," Henry replies bashfully as his chest puffs up in pride. He reaches up to pull on his bowtie and holds his head up just a little higher as he tries to direct her attention to his accessory. "And my bowtie matches you, Mommy."

Blair gives him an indulgent smile, sweeps his hair off his forehead so she can press a kiss against his temple. She takes a seat at her vanity in order to begin affixing her makeup, and Henry slides off the bed to come stand beside her. She's thwarting his plans – his scheme – and he needs to distract her for just a moment longer.

"Daddy and I went to the Empire to look at the party."

Blair's hand freezes mid-brush of blush against her cheeks, and she turns her head to look at Henry. Her husband had insisted on planning tonight's party without her input, and the opportunity to learn even a few details of the event are just too much to pass up. Each question she throws at the little boy is pondered over for an excruciating amount of time as Henry taps his fingers against his chin in contemplation and shrugs his shoulders in reply.

His refusal to answer is just enough of a distraction that the necklace slipped around her neck catches her off guard. Her fingers fly up to touch the intricate design, to ghost across the diamonds before curling around the pendent at the middle of the necklace as her eyes dart up to look at Chuck's in the mirror hanging over her vanity.

"Where did you—" Blair's voice cracks under the weight of her emotions as her eyes fill up with tears. "I had Dorota box everything up after—I thought it was lost forever."

"I picked it out," Henry interjects excitedly. His mother's eyes break from their connection with his father's to look at him, to press a kiss against his head in thanks with murmured words of how he chose beautifully as Chuck finishes clasping the necklace around her neck. Henry grins as he explains that Daddy said they could give it to her before her birthday party tonight even though her real birthday isn't until tomorrow because midnight is too late for him and he picked it out.

"Actually," Chuck corrects in a secretive whisper in her ear, "I've been looking for it since our first anniversary. I wanted to make sure he agreed with me that something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty. And Henry and I are both in agreement that the only person worthy of its beauty is you."

He reaches over his shoulder to skim his fingers down the nape of her neck and adjust the placement of the necklace against her skin. Her skin becomes flushed and heated under his ministrations, and the fingers clutching the heart-shaped pendent of the Erickson Beamon necklace let go in order to tangle with his. A kiss is pressed against her head; his hot breath curling around her ear enticingly.

"Happy birthday, Blair."


End file.
